


Sometimes it's just that easy

by authoressjean



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilbo Baggins is an author, Dwalin is trouble, Fili and Kili are young and full of mischief, Gen, M/M, Thorin is an exasperated uncle, You wanted a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1060228">Alone is a word not meant for you.</a>"</p>
<p>Two weeks after the bookstore, Thorin finally calls Bilbo, after prodding from Dwalin.</p>
<p>It goes about as well as he expects it to, and that is to say, it's a disaster. Between his stammering and Fili's determination to get Thorin a date, it's a wonder Bilbo doesn't hang up right on the spot.</p>
<p>Thank god he only seems amused.</p>
<p>One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes it's just that easy

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many comments to catch up on. I swear I'll have them!
> 
> As my muse is currently cooling her heels on 'the changed future' verse at the moment, have some more fluff and hilarity. Because apparently flustered!Thorin is hilarious. And I really enjoy making him flustered, which y'all seem to enjoy as well. So. Have more flustered!Thorin and highly amused!Bilbo.
> 
> Also, troublesome Dwalin who can't seem to leave well enough alone and Fili and Kili who demand that their uncle has a date.

It was two weeks later that Dwalin finally cornered him. “Just do it,” he said, not even bothering to keep his voice low. Not that he needed to: Fili and Kili were both enraptured by whatever was on the TV. Thorin was fairly certain he’d switched it over to a family appropriate channel, and from the random songs he could hear every now and then, he was certain it was one of the clay animation holiday films from eons ago. He remembered watching those as a kid, and didn’t that make him feel old.

And Dwalin still wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m working on it,” Thorin said defensively. Dwalin gave him a Look. Worse, it was a Knowing Look. “Just give me some time.”

“If I give you time, Rip Van Winkle, you’ll never do it.” From behind his back, Dwalin handed over the portable land line that Thorin refused to part with. “Call him.”

It was everything Thorin wanted to do. He wanted to call, wanted to see if Mr. Baggins’ voice – _Bilbo’s_ voice – was as sweet and charming as he remembered it being. He wanted to so badly his fingers were twitching for the phone.

And that was the reason he shook his head. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “Dwalin, I can’t. It’s not fair to the boys.” He stole a glance into the living room and watched Kili roll over in a fit of giggles while Fili grinned. It hadn’t fixed everything, that day at the bookstore. But damn if it hadn’t helped.

Somehow, Bilbo Baggins, author extraordinaire, had gotten through to his nephew when no one else had. Fili had slowly started speaking again, teasing Kili until his brother pouted, insisting that he could do things, Uncle Thorin, _honestly_ , and why did no one trust him with the stove yet? It wasn’t daily, but it was often enough that Thorin knew they were on the right track. Somehow, Bilbo had gotten to Fili when Thorin couldn’t have, and he owed the man more than he could say.

“The boys adore him, he’s their favorite author,” Dwalin pointed out, raising the eyebrow with the scar through it. It always made the gesture that much more obvious. “How this isn’t fair to them, I haven’t figured out yet. It’s a _date_ , Thorin-“

“No it’s not,” Thorin said, and immediately regretted it. Dwalin’s eyes went soft with understanding, and if he hadn’t been Thorin’s best friend, his brother in arms in the war, Thorin would’ve smacked him. As it was, the temptation was fairly great.

Dwalin sighed. “I wasn’t going to say anythin’, but both of the boys are worried about you.”

Thorin blinked. “Worried about _me_?” Had he done something? Did they think he was going to get ill, like Dis had?

“Easy, blockhead,” Dwalin said, the insult somehow an endearment. “They’re worried _for_ you, not about you. They think you’re too lonely.”

“I have them,” Thorin said, the response immediate and without thought. And while he would always mourn Dis, Thorin was more grateful than he could explain that he had the two little miscreants that were his nephews in his life.

“Yeah, and they have each other. Who do _you_ have, Thorin? Who’s in your corner? And don’t count me, I don’t mean like that. You know what I’m talkin’ about. Ever since…look. You gotta get back up on the horse. I’ve left you alone, Ori’s left you alone, Balin’s left you alone. But you can’t hide like this, laddie. You know it’s not good for you.”

He did. He let his gaze fall to the phone. “Just call him,” Dwalin said gently. “It’s that easy.”

“That easy?” Thorin asked. His voice came out more hesitant than he’d wanted it to.

“That easy,” Dwalin affirmed. He set the phone in Thorin’s hand, made certain Thorin’s fingers were locked around it, then let go. The phone felt like a lead weight. “Call him, and do it now so I can see you doin’ it and know you actually called. Maybe if you’re lucky, he likes pasta, too,” and he waggled his eyebrows.

“I like pasta!” Kili called from the living room, his eyes still glued to the TV. “Not as much as Uncle, though.”

“No one loves pasta as much as your uncle does,” Dwalin called back. He winked at Thorin. “If he makes you pasta, he’s a keeper.”

Thorin scowled at Dwalin even as he pulled the piece of paper out of his wallet. It was a little faded, but it was still legible, and the numbers were clear. His fingers were solid as they pressed the right buttons, even while inside, Thorin was shaking. He hadn’t done this in so long, and what if Bilbo hadn’t been meaning for Thorin to call him? What if he’d forgotten about Thorin already?

He hit the last button, and carefully put the phone to his ear. Each ring left his heart pounding all the more. God, when had this gotten so _hard_?

After the fourth ring, a very familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Thorin said, then cleared his throat when it came out sort of squeaky. “Um, hi. This is Thorin.”

Oh yes, that was _smooth_.

There was a pause. “I’m sorry…?”

His stomach twisted. “Thorin, Thorin Durinson, from the bookstore. Uncle Thorin, but you wouldn’t call me that, obviously, but I was the uncle with two nephews, not my sons, you signed their books at the book signing – well, that’s what you were there for, of course, so of _course_ you signed their books – and I’m Thorin. I hope you, um. Remember me.”

Dwalin was leaning against the kitchen counter, shoulders shaking, hand over his mouth to cover his laughter. Thorin glared at him, his face as red as Kili’s favorite sweater. Because of course his second attempt at an introduction was even _smoother_ than the first. Of course.

“Oh yes, I remember you,” Bilbo said in a very knowing – and highly amused – voice. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear very well when I picked up: the tea kettle picked that moment to start whistling.” And now that Thorin could hear past his thundering pulse, he did hear the familiar strains of a tea kettle ready to be taken off the burner. “But yes, Thorin, I do remember you. Very well.”

“Good,” Thorin said firmly, and then sort of didn’t know what to say next. Dwalin was all but choking, and there were tears in his eyes. If Fili and Kili hadn’t suddenly been more interested in Thorin than the TV, he would’ve flipped his friend off. Bastard.

“So…” Bilbo began, drawing the word out. “You called?”

“Yes! Yes, yes I did,” Thorin said. “I, um. Wanted to talk to you about…dinner.”

“I had hoped that was why you were calling,” Bilbo said, and his voice was warm. It helped ease Thorin’s heart rate until it was only lightly strumming beneath his skin. “I’m quite the cook, I’ve been told.”

“A writer and a cook? I’m glad Kili dragged me into the bookstore that day,” Thorin said, mouth unchecked, and then bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. He might as well have asked him if he’d marry Thorin.

Bilbo’s laugh was just as warm as his voice. “Oh I am _so_ glad you called. You’ve made a terrible day so much better.”

“I didn’t think you could have terrible days,” Thorin said. In for a penny, at this point. “You seem immune to them, the anti-terrible. At least, you have been for two people I know.”

“How is your nephew doing? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Fili, in fact, was now in front of him, with Kili beside him. They were both watching him with hopeful smiles on their faces. “Is that Mr. Baggins?” Kili asked. “Did you call him at last?”

“At _last_?” Thorin sputtered, even while Dwalin called from his place on the counter, “Yeah, he finally did.”

“Oh good,” Kili said decisively. “I want to talk to him.”

Thorin glanced at Fili and found him nodding quickly. “Can I talk to him first?” he asked.

“They’d both like to talk to you, actually. I think my phone call is about to be usurped by two little hellions.”

“I promise I’ll make them give the phone back to you,” Bilbo said, and there was such a smile in his voice that Thorin couldn’t help but smile back. “You and I still have dinner to discuss.”

Yes, yes they did. “Here,” Thorin said, and handed the phone to Fili. Fili grinned at him and carefully adjusted the phone until it was against his right ear.

Then, without preamble, he asked, “Are you going to ask my uncle on a date? He’s not good at asking for himself.”

Oh merciful god, what had he done? Dwalin was outright laughing now while Thorin buried his face in his hands. Kili was piping in about Thorin’s cooking being _terrible_ , and they needed a good cook, and could Bilbo cook pancakes in the morning?

That was enough of _that_. “I need the phone back,” Thorin said. Fili glared at him.

“I’m not done yet!”

“You are both very much done. I think you should go watch more of Rudolph.” Before they could further imply that Bilbo should stay the night, and thinking about Bilbo staying the night, preferably in Thorin’s bed, with sleep-tousled curls and those eyes blearily blinking open-

Oh god he was screwed. “Go,” Thorin insisted, taking the phone from Fili’s grasp. “Rudolph awaits.”

“He dies in the end, it’s no fun,” Fili said. Kili stared at him in abject horror.

“He does _not_! I watched it last year and he doesn’t!”

“That was last year’s version,” Fili said, rolling his eyes. “This year’s version, the Abominable Snowman eats him.”

“Dwalin,” Thorin begged, because he couldn’t deal with them fighting right then and there, and Kili’s eyes were welling with tears.

Dwalin coughed the last of his laughs away and moved to catch both boys gently by the shoulder. “All right, that’s enough teasin’. How about I tell you a _real_ Christmas story, huh? Where Santa saved the world from the evil ninjas…”

Because that was any better. But Kili was wiping the tears from his eyes, and Fili was giving his brother a half hug for an apology, and when they grinned at each other, they were fine, and ready to listen to Dwalin’s story. Thorin watched with a small smile as they all crowded up on the sofa together, just like Dis used to do with them. Growing so fast, the both of them, but still the same sweet, troublesome, perfect nephews he’d held as babies. Even if they had the worst phone manners ever. They’d be working on that.

The phone. The _phone_.

Thorin realized it was in his hands and he quickly lifted it to his ear. “Hello?” he asked.

“Do your nephews _always_ ask if someone can stay the night?”

Thorin let out a gusty sigh of relief when he heard Bilbo’s chuckling voice. “Only when they want to go to bed early,” he said, and Bilbo gave a loud laugh. He couldn’t help himself from chuckling either, just a little. “I would like dinner. With you.”

“I would, too,” Bilbo said seriously, but his voice was still warm. “I’m glad to hear Fili’s voice. I’ve thought about the three of you for some time now. It’s been awhile.”

Though there was no scolding tone, no disappointment to be heard, Thorin still caught the question. _Why did it take so long for you to call me?_ “I’m terrible at this sort of thing,” Thorin admitted. “I didn’t call because…you’ll think this is odd, for someone like me, but I was…I was scared.”

Bilbo’s voice was gentle. “Of?”

“Exactly what just happened, for one,” Thorin said, and Bilbo snickered. “I know I’ve taught them to say ‘Hello’ first, not ask if someone will date their uncle.”

“You’re very lucky that I answered ‘yes’, then.”

His heart surged up into his throat until he thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe. “Did you, now?” he managed.

“I did, yes. Since apparently Fili’s uncle is dreadful at asking for himself. Though I’m going to take a stab and say that there’s a reason he doesn’t like asking.”

There was. It just wasn’t a good one. “It ended…badly. Very badly.” Complete with Thorin’s heart shredded into pieces on the floor along with the photos of the two of them, the ring burning from its place in Thorin’s back pocket, and it had felt as if his entire world had gone up in flames.

It had turned out well for Thranduil, and he was happy. Or so Thorin could see from his Facebook page. When he logged on as Dwalin’s boyfriend, Ori. And he was glad for Thranduil, sometimes. Sometimes. Other times he got so lost that it took a full bottle of whatever was handy to dull the pain. Like the night Thranduil had announced his engagement to some woman he’d found after Thorin. He’d almost gotten alcohol poisoning that night.

Then Dis had gotten sick, and then the boys had been his, and he’d forced himself to just Not Think About It. And he’d been doing well with that, he had. Until Bilbo had come along.

When Bilbo spoke again, it wasn’t what Thorin had been expecting. “After I lost my parents, I sort of lost a lot of my ‘jive’, as my friend likes to say. I haven’t done the dating scene in about five years. I wasn’t even certain if I’d done it the proper way when I met you, or if I’d bungled it all up. So I’m not quite certain of what I’m doing, either.” He paused, and his voice was a little tentative now. “I’d like to muddle my way through with you. If you’d like to.”

It was as if someone had popped a bubble right in front of Thorin’s face, but instead of the horrible loud bang he’d been expecting, it had been a soft whistling and nothing more than that at all. Maybe Dwalin had been right. Maybe it really _was_ that easy.

“I would like to,” Thorin said, smiling. “I would very much like to. Dinner.”

“Dinner,” Bilbo agreed. “And then breakfast.”

Thorin choked on his own air. He pounded on his chest until he could breathe again. When his other senses returned to him, it was to see Dwalin giving him that raised eyebrow look again, and to hear Bilbo laughing through the phone line. “That wasn’t nice,” Thorin growled. He felt like Bilbo’s dragon, scowling and ready to breathe fire.

“No, it wasn’t, but it _was_ the response I was hoping for,” Bilbo said, sounding a bit too gleeful for Thorin’s liking. “Dinner first, though. At my place? Say, Friday, seven o’clock?”

“I just need directions,” Thorin said, scrambling for a piece of paper. Bilbo dutifully gave him the address and the best directions from the bookstore, which actually helped quite a bit. Nothing like two chances of finding a place, should his search engine map fail him.

“Should I bring anything?” Thorin asked.

“No, no, I’ve got everything. I hope you like pasta.”

In spite of himself, Thorin let out a laugh. “I do, actually.” Maybe that was his sign that this was going to be all right.

_It will,_ Dis’s voice said in his ear, and he took a deep breath. _You’ve been taking care of my children for nearly a year. Try taking care of my brother, too._

He would. From here on out, he would.

“Good. Seven in the evening on Friday,” Bilbo confirmed.

“Seven in the evening on Friday.” Thorin paused. “Then maybe one day, a seven in the morning on Saturday. I have pans for pancakes.”

There was a loud cough from the other end, and Thorin chuckled, feeling very pleased with himself. “I suppose I had that coming,” Bilbo said, and he sounded a little bit flustered.

“A little bit.”

“We’ll have to make that a date for the future, then.”

He’d barely met the man and here they were, planning mornings with pancakes. “I’d like that,” Thorin said softly, and there was a grin in Bilbo’s voice when they said good night and hung up.

Baby steps. But he could do this.

 

Two months later on a Saturday morning, when he came downstairs, Bilbo was already at the stove. He was wearing Thorin’s shirt and his own sleep shorts, and his hair was a mess of curls. Fili was very carefully helping with the pan, and Kili was enthusiastically mixing up more batter at the table, knees on the chair, little tongue stuck out in determination.

Thorin took it all in as he moved to Bilbo’s side. “I want chocolate chips in mine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. Then he made his way to the table just in time to catch the bowl from flying out under Kili’s energetic stirring.

When he glanced back, Bilbo was grinning at him, eyes bright and promising. “Good future date?” he asked.

“Very good future date,” Thorin agreed. “We should make more.”

“Two days before Christmas,” Bilbo said. “You, me, ice skating rink. Mistletoe.”

_Say yes,_ his sister's voice echoed, and Thorin grinned.

“Yes.”

_Finis_


End file.
